


We'd be so less fragile, if we were made from metal

by Elisexyz



Series: Someone to stay [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 17:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Since Grant is the one who got her out of the Monolith, hewasexpecting to gain a few points with Simmons, even if the last time they saw each other she barely looked at him. He gets a much warmer greeting than he anticipated.





	We'd be so less fragile, if we were made from metal

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr prompt, [“You can stop hugging me now” + Biospecialist](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/172111186509/you-can-stop-hugging-me-now-for-biospecialist). S2 AU, it all went down a bit differently from the show, but the gist of it is: Skye didn't shoot him, so he didn't get involved with Kara (...;_;), subsequently he just went on dropping dead or tied up people on SHIELD's doorstep (like. a creepy cat.) until Coulson got fed up and offered him probation. Jemma got sucked into the Monolith and here we are.  
>  ~~Also the song in the title is obsessing me and I don't know why.~~

Considering that he’s the one who ended up getting her out, Grant was already expecting to gain a few points with Simmons.

He found her sitting in the corner of what looked like an interrogation room, a gun in her hands, blood all over her clothes and a body slumped next to her. She looked up at him with eyes filled with tears, she shook her head hesitantly when he asked if she was hurt and she obediently followed him outside, throwing glances at whomever it is that she had to leave behind – of course Simmons would make friends in the alternate dimension inside the rock, why is he surprised?

He announced over the comm that he got her, Coulson ordered everyone to go back to the portal and Grant got to kill some of whomever those guys were on his way out – which was frankly pretty refreshing: with Coulson’s restrictions to keep him on the team, he’s had to limit himself to non-lethal measures 99% of the time, which is a pain in the ass when the other side shoots to kill.

So, yeah, fate was on his side for once and he ended up being the hero of the situation who burst into the right room. Still, he was already working for them when Simmons got herself into that mess, so him coming to the rescue doesn’t really explain the wide-eyed look that she’s been giving him since when he got her out.

Even as Fitz tries to suffocate her with a hug and Simmons’ arms shoot up to reciprocate, she keeps staring at him.

What’s up with that, really?

When Simmons walks up to him, her eyes filling with tears again, Grant is expecting some kind of— well, if not an explanation, at least _something_. A thank you, or a comment that’d give away if she was killed and replaced by a doppelganger – it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen to them, after all –, but instead she takes a big leap forward and throws her arms around him.

He’s startled enough that he automatically catches her, moving a step backwards so that the extra weight doesn’t make him lose his balance. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, sniffing quietly and— that’s a fierce hold she’s got there, who would have thought.

After a moment of contemplation, he decides that patting her on the back in a brotherly and reassuring fashion is the safest way to go, considering that he’s got a pretty nice visual of half of the team from there, and they don’t look pleased.

“It’s so good to see you,” Simmons says. Her voice sounds wet and thin and absolutely _sincere_. That’s a very warm greeting. The few points he had expected, but this is— weird.

“Yeah, I’m— glad that you are back,” he says, carefully. They are all looking at him like he’s assaulting her, which is super unfair, because _she_ jumped _him_ and it’s not like she seems to mind the contact, if anything she’s clinging to him for dear life.

Fitz and Skye in particular seem about to jump and tear them apart by force if necessary.

“Alright, you can stop hugging me now,” he tries, and Simmons only clings harder. “Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but our team here is about to chop my head off, so…” Normally he’d love to screw with them a bit, but he’s trying to survive his probation, thank you very much.

Simmons sniffs, nodding against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” she says, quietly, easing her grip on him and pulling away, her eyes locked on the ground. “I don’t know what got into me,” she adds, shooting a glance at the rest of the people present. Grant forces himself not to raise his eyebrows: he feels like she’s very much aware of why she did what she did, but this is not the time to press the issue.

“Well, you’ve been gone for three months,” Skye steps in, a nervous smile on her face as she touches Simmons’ arm. “It’s normal to be— confused.”

“Months,” Simmons murmurs. “It felt like longer.”

As Skye leads her away, chattering about how they need to catch up and there’s a warm bed and a lots of food waiting for her, Simmons sends one last glance his way. Grant is very irritated to find out that he can’t for the life of him grasp what’s going on in her head during that look.

 

 

It’s eleven pm when she knocks on his door.

“Hey,” he greets, cautiously. He briefly wonders why she’s not sleeping, after the day she’s had, but a quick look at her clothes and messy hair, plus the red-strained eyes, makes it clear that she’s been _trying_ , without much success. The real question is: why did she come to _him_? “Can I help you?” he prompts.

She’s awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and she hesitates a moment before asking: “May I come in?”

Grant has been wondering about her weird reaction to him after she came out of the portal, but he was discouraged from asking anything by the way Skye and Fitz – and everyone else, but them especially – kept hovering around her. He’s allowed to participate in team bonding moments, sometimes he is even part of game night, when he feels like they are in a good enough mood – it’s all about reading how much they are loathing him that day and acting accordingly, really –, but he’s certainly not allowed to steal the guest of honour.

So he just let them be, resolving to ask about it at the first occasion, another day. But if _she_ is asking to see him, things change.

“Sure,” he replies, stepping aside to let her in. He hesitates before closing the door, but it’s not like he’s going to lock it, a bit of privacy is no crime.

Simmons goes sitting on the edge of his bed, playing with her hands on her lap. He considers just letting her take her time, but he doesn’t know if someone saw her escaping her room, and there’s always the risk that someone could interrupt them any second. The more he can get out of her now that _she_ came looking for _him_ , the less he’ll have to work later.

“What is it?” he prompts, gently. He moves to sit next to her, leaving a bit of distance between them to not make her feel smothered.

She sighs. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Yeah, that much he had figured. “Can I help somehow?”

She shrugs, glancing at him. “I figured I could use some company.” He’s debating whether asking why she chose him specifically would work in his favour or push her away, but she hears the unspoken question before he can make up his mind. “Everyone has been hovering,” she says, with a small smile. “I appreciate it, but— you’re the safest bet.”

Grant frowns slightly. That’s a lie, he’s pretty sure. Not even _she_ seems to believe it.

He decides to let it go, for the moment. “Alright,” he says, slowly. “What should I do?”

She shrugs, again. Simmons has always been small and non-combat ready by a long shot, but right now there’s something particularly _vulnerable_ in her that makes him want to lock her in his room and keep her safe for the next decade or so. “They say that talking with someone you—” She pauses. “That _talking_ —” she corrects. “—before going to sleep helps. Maybe we could talk a bit?”

“Sure,” he smiles. “What’s on your mind?”

She scoffs. “Nothing relaxing.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” he points out. “Getting it off your chest could help.” Well, it _is_ true. It _does_ also push his agenda but— two birds, one stone, sue him.

She bites her bottom lip, swaying a bit on her seat. “Maybe,” she concedes, a few moments later. “I don’t know.”

Silence falls between them, and Grant decides to try and get an answer to his question. Worst case scenario, she tries to dodge it and he gets some information anyway simply by observing her reaction. “Simmons— can I ask you why that reaction when you saw me?”

She doesn’t seem surprised by the question, but her shoulders tense visibly and she shifts uncomfortably. “Uh, yes, the— I’m assuming you are referring to the hug.” He nods. “I was just emotional,” she says, turning towards him to deliberately hold eye contact for a few seconds and smiling in a way that screams: _I’m lying, lying, lying_.

“That doesn’t explain it, and I think you know,” he replies, gently. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” he adds, because a bit of reverse psychology can’t hurt. “I was just confused, and you seem— weird, around me. I just want to help.”

She stares at him for a few seconds, and he clearly sees some tears building up. Should he consider it a good sign?

She takes a deep breath, trying to collect herself, then she nods. “It wasn’t exactly an alternate dimension,” she explains. “More like— a time loop.”

“A time loop?” he echoes, raising his eyebrows. “The ‘living the same day over and over’ kind of time loop?”

She shakes her head, smiling slightly at that for some reason. “No, more like— I ended up in a different place every time, everything would restart after a certain— event.” She pauses, taking another breath. “You were there,” she adds.

He decides not to comment, letting his silence prompt her.

“It was— everything changed, always. The only thing that stayed the same was that it was never long before I found you and— and that you died, every time.”

Oh. That’s— rough. And it begins to explain her reaction: if he was the only thing that never changed he assumes that they had some time to grow somehow close, and she saw him die over and over, which would undoubtedly take its toll on someone like Simmons.

He suddenly remembers the body slumped next to her and he has to fight a wave of nausea. That was probably him, she was covered in _his_ blood. It’s unsettling.

“That was the event?” he asks, trying not to give away that he’s been somehow affected by what she’s saying, considering that she looks pretty worked up and him freaking out can’t help matters.

“Yes,” she says, slowly. “I tried to stop it—” she adds, suddenly raising her head and turning towards him with pleading eyes. “I swear I did but—”

“Hey, I believe you,” he tries to soothe her. They haven’t really been _physical_ beyond necessary since after the uprising, but she’s the one who got started with the hugs, so he reaches for her hands and squeezes reassuringly. She welcomes the contact.

“I even tried to get away from you, to see if that would help,” she explains. “I think it happened anyway, because I ended up in another place, not long after.” She sighs. “Sometimes it lasted, you know? The longest we survived was— four months and twelve days.” She smiles at him with glassy eyes. “We had a house, it was a small safehouse in the countryside— we even had a dog.”

“Really?” he asks, and he’s not sure if it makes his stomach turn at the memory of Buddy or if it’s a pleasant thought. He can’t really see himself play house, and the longing fondness in Simmons’ expression seems very foreign to him. When she disappeared, she barely looked at him in the eye. Now, she’s reminiscing about some happy life they lived for four months.

“Yeah, I think you would have liked him,” she replies, her lips still twisted in a small smile. “Sometimes I—I had to wait. Before I could move on to another life. I don’t know why. The longest was a week. I didn’t like being alone.” She shifts closer, he’s not sure if unconsciously or not.

He doesn’t really know what to say or what to make of this.

“Once I ended up on the Bus,” she suddenly says. “Usually it was just you and me, but— I was happy to see Fitz, and Skye—” She trails off, the smile slowly disappearing from her face. “That didn’t last long. Just a couple of days, then we were ambushed and _you_ did something very stupid,” she accuses, and it reminds him of the old days, when she would scold him to no end about taking care of himself and his injuries.

“I— apologize?” he tries, and she snorts.

“Not the first nor the last time,” she mumbles.

She doesn’t seem to have nothing to add for the moment.

“Have you told this to Coulson?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “He said debriefing can wait until tomorrow.”

“Very kind of him,” Grant comments. “Are you going to?”

Simmons turns towards him, looking openly lost. “I don’t know,” she simply says. “I don’t know what he would think, and— it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“I don’t know, you seem pretty shaken up,” he comments. Maybe, if Coulson knew he’d be understanding about Simmons wanting to be around him. If his presence reassures her, as her pursuing him suggests, if he could _help_ , maybe that could get Coulson to finally stop looking at him sideways half of the time.

Making sure that Simmons stops looking so _small_ is a nice bonus.

“Well, you are not going to die here, are you?” she asks, and for a moment she looks like she _really_ needs to hear him say that no, he’s going to be fine. He wonders if she’s still somehow scared she’s still trapped in that endless loop.

“Not if I can help it, no,” he assures.

She snorts. “Knowing you, that’s hardly reassuring.”

As silence falls again, she shifts even closer, until she’s pressed against his side and she can rest her head against his shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you anymore,” she declares.

Grant blinks. “What?” Not that he’s complaining, but— she _does_ know that he’s not the other guy she met in the rock, right?

She shrugs. “There were a lot of Grant Wards there,” she explains. “Some were Hydra, some were SHIELD, some neither, and they all—” She sighs. “It wasn’t all that different. I don’t have it in me to be mad at you anymore, alright?” She shifts to get more comfortable against him. “You are officially forgiven.”

Well, that’s— beyond good. “I’m— happy to hear that,” he says, slowly. “I don’t particularly like _how_ you got there, but—” He pauses for a moment. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I let you die— a thousand times over.”

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” he replies, and he’s not even lying. Not only she looks pretty broken up about it, but Simmons is exactly the kind of person that would try to save even someone like him. “How long were you there?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It felt like forever.”

He can only nod, carefully throwing his arm around her. If she came looking for comfort, he’s going to give it to her.

“You were right, I feel a bit better,” she comments, a few moments later. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

He guesses that this will become kind of an habit. He can’t bring himself to feel sorry about it in the least.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Does it still count as me mistreating Ward if I killed off a bunch of different versions of him off-screen?


End file.
